


Ho Ho

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [583]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: At Christmas, Brotp, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: the-lady-razorsharp askedhey there. Holiday-themed fluff? Or conversely holiday-themed whump? I'm a sucker for John but I'll leave it up to you. 🎄





	Ho Ho

“John’s not much for Christmas.”

John keeps his eyes on the lights he was carefully untangling and pretended not to hear the conversation flowing in off the deck. Gordon’s already making some Scrooge comment – last year he shook it up by referring instead to the Grinch – and soon Scott will delicately steer the conversation back to safer ground.

Scott’s the one who took the box of ornaments to the other side of the room, filled John’s hands with the string of lights instead. Scott understood, and come New Years, it will be John’s turn to fend off brothers, to drag Scott’s drunk ass safely home to bed and make sure the bottle and two glasses is tucked away safe back in the desk drawer for another year.

But right now, it’s Christmas Eve, and they’ve put this off too longer as far as their younger brothers are concerned. Gordon and Alan are hyped up on sugar and the eggnog they insisted on making despite the tropical heat. Virgil is halfway between almost getting it and completely missing it. 

One day, John might be able to explain.

“This is..interesting.”

John’s head snapped up, his breath catching in his throat at the sparkle of the gaudy little mermaid ornament dangling from Penny’s pinkie finger. The sound of conversation on the deck seems far away now, the air in his lungs suddenly so much louder.

“John?”

“It…” he coughed, cleared his throat, feeling the wire in his fingers snap taut. “It was my mother’s. She loved dumb weird ornaments. We used to find a new one for the tree every year.”

He had to blink hard to clear the salt from his eyes. He flinched hard as he felt the sofa dip and sink. “Darling?”

She had it held delicately between slim fingers, pale pink nails matching the painted-on bikini. John hasn’t touched her things since she went up the mountain, the day before Christmas Eve a lifetime ago. 

There’s a little chip, a rubbed-off scale from five Christmases ago, in Kansas, when Gordon was a little rough and John had stormed off into the snowstorm rather than try to explain.

His heart breaks again as he took it out of Penny’s unresisting fingers. “It’s such a dumb little thing,” he tried, rotating the ornament in his palm. “But it was hers, and she shared it with me. Is it stupid the thing I miss the most is the two of us going out to pick a new one?”

Penny squeezed his wrist. “I don’t think that’s stupid at all.”

John reverently held the little mermaid between his palms, head bowed, and forced himself to try not to miss her so much.


End file.
